But Is It Art?
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Dean is dragged to a museum by Sam and meets an artist named Castiel. A conversation happens. Artist Castiel x Mechanic Dean with some Student Sam x Manwhore/model Gabriel in the background. Rate T for language and Gabriel sucking on Sam's tongue. Ongoing series now thanks to Boofini.
1. Chapter 1

AN-Just a one shot that's been banging around in my head. Nothing less, nothing more. If I have time and think of anything more to add to this, I will. Rated Teen and up for language.

NO BETA. READ AT OWN RISK Thanks for reading. Comment are always appreciated. They are hoarded and kept with all the other shiny things. Don't make me get weird about it...

It was Sam's turn to pick so Dean found himself at an art gallery slash museum slash what the fuck am I doing here type deals, feeling horribly out of place in his jeans ripped from work and not for fashion, his faded plaid shirt, and his rough, oil stained hands. While Sam seemed to be having the time of his life, the overgrown hippy nerd that he was, Dean was looking up at painting he was sure he couldn't even begin to fathom or appreciate to their full merit. Sam had this big fan boy hardon for some artist and his new exhibition though. Dean could care less but they had gone to a classic car expo last week so hoity toity art event it was, so like it or not, he might as well soak in some learning.

Sam was in his third year of college at Stanford working his ass off to become a lawyer while Dean barely graduated high school with a GED and owned his own garage. Both were as busy as life tended to make people to be. The two of them had almost lost touch completely due to their long work hours, different life directions, and 'out of sight, out of mind' mentalities. It took a forgotten Christmas at Bobby's, their adoptive father, and a whole lot of yelling on the old man's part to make the brothers realize what they were in danger of losing what little they had left. With their mother and father dead, Sam and Dean were each other's only real family so they resolved to fix this predicament by making plans with one another every weekend. Nothing huge or too time consuming. Sometimes they just went to a diner and caught up over some pie. They did that a lot when it was Dean's turn actually. Sam had insisted upon this cultural outing though so Dean had relented after some emotional blackmail and general teasing about his severe lack of culture.

The mechanic sighed, staring down the painting that he had been trying to make sense of for the last hour or so. The artist, one Castiel Novak, was famous not only for his work but also for his eccentric nature and his erratic art style. Dean had been able to gloss that much from half listening to Sam gush about the exhibit, but apparently the guy's breakthrough series, the one that had put him in the public eye, had been all about honey bees. Just bees, the artist claiming that they were the true keepers of the plans or something crazy like that. Complete whack job in Dean's humble opinion but what the hell did he know about art? He could fix an engine like nobody's business and restore a rusted out wreck to cherry condition again, but art? If theses painting were anything to go by, that kind of shit was way above his pay grade, fiscally and mentally.

Novak's newest series was one about angels or at least Dean thought it was. There were people with wings in them but they were doing things Dean was sure Sunday school never covered. In one particularly vivid paining titled 'Lucifer and Michael', two angels were either screwing each other, fighting, or both. Dean couldn't really tell. All he took away from the piece was that some one was getting fucked hard.

Another titled 'Anna' depicted a fiery red headed angel falling out of the sky as she tore out her own shining heart, and one named after the archangel Gabriel but for some reason showed a man with golden eyes and hair hiding himself behind the guise of a smiling fox as what looked like heaven fell all around him.

Dean flat out didn't like the painting denoted as 'Uriel', the angel's dark visage smugly staring down at him, his expression full of open loathing and disgust. Dean felt like he was being judged just by looking at it.

Only one painting in the room drew Dean to it and held his attention. It was bothering the hell out of him though, and he had no idea why. Dean sighed for what felt like the billionth time today, wishing that some part of him got art.

"Do you not like it?"

Dean almost jumped out of his skin, the low voice asking the question coming from a space right beside him. He turned around to find a man almost standing right on top him, shoulder to shoulder with him without Dean noticing somehow. The strange man with the personal space problem was dressed in a tan trench coat, which Dean found odd considering it was actually quite warm today, his profile solely focused on the painting before them.

"W-what? Why?", Dean stammered, wanting to move away but at the same time not wanting to let the other guy win. He was here first damn it and just that ridiculously stubborn.

"You keep sighing, Does the painting displease you?", the man reiterated his inquiry in a voice that seemed to be made entirely of whisky, gravel, sleep, and smoke, turneding his head to look at Dean straight on. This time, Dean did take a step back. The man's eyes were just that surreally blue.

"Um...no.", Dean wetted his lips, his mouth feeling almost too dry to do so. Crazy blue eyes the color of rare gems were set in a handsome face made of pale skin, full plush lips, and a strong jaw that was dusted with a five o'clock shadow. Dean didn't usually go for guys, but he was willing to make as exception for Mr. Social Awkwardness here. The guy's voice alone was doing wonderful things to the lower parts of Dean's anatomy, his penis definitely casting its vote towards lengthy foreplay with lots of dirty talk. Dean ignored that feedback as he tried to make his tongue work in his favor again. "I just don't get what the guy is trying to say, is all.".

The man seemed to take this throwaway statement into grave consideration for some reason, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side in contemplation. "Why should he being trying to say anything?", the man finally asked.

"Hell if I know, but what is the point of art if you're not trying to tell the world something?", Dean shrugged, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Sam would be able to argue his point of view eloquently but Dean didn't really want to get into an art debate with some random stranger no matter how good looking he was. Although when Dean took into account the man's ill fitting suit, dirty trench coat, and scuffed loafers, he concluded that the guy probably didn't know jack squat about art either. If anything, he looked like some tax accountant on his lunch break. It wasn't a lot to go on but it was enough to make Dean relax quite a bit. At least, they were on the same mental footing here. The man with the gorgeous blue eyes didn't look like he had a clue about this shit either, so where was the harm in talking about it?

"Ok, I get that he is trying to say something about heaven and hell, but seriously what is with all the angels doing weird ass shit? It's creepy, that's what it is.", Dean expanded a little on his point of view, looking around at the other painting before returning to his only one he could relate to. "This though. This isn't so bad. It's just sad is all, like the angel has too much heart or something and it's killing him bloody from the inside out. Angels aren't supposed to look like that, all human and shit.".

The piece that they were both contemplating was that of a seraph with black wings. The angel was crouched down with his wings unfurled around him like a shield against the viewer, trying to hide himself away as his hands clutched at his face like a mask as if in grief or despair. Whatever the artist had done or technique he used with the paint made the feathers look oily and wet, like they were just about to fall off of the canvas and stain the floor. The angel sat behind his wings, covered in their shadows, the only discerning features being the angel's eyes, the piercing orbs staring out through the web work of his fingers, wide and achingly beautiful in their sorrow.

Eyes so blue that they didn't seem real expect Dean had just seen them so he knew that they could exist. He had just seen them in the man he was talking to.

"Son of a bitch."

Backing away with a glare, Dean swore with feeling. "So how long were you going to let me make at ass out of myself?", he snapped, "And don't even think about playing dumb with me. That's you up there.".

"That was never my intention. I value honesty. Too many people though tell me what they think I want to hear.", the man said softly, not bothering to deny anything as he looked at Dean with those soulful eyes. "I apologize for my lack of introduction but I meant no deception.". Though the man's voice was a rough monotone, Dean found himself believing him for some reason. That alone kept him from storming off.

"Well, what do you want to know?", Dean said abruptly enough to make the artist jump, his brow furrowing in confused surprise from it.

"C'mon short bus, you said that you wanted to know something. Spit it out already." Dean elaborated.

"It is not of import. I have upset you. I will take my leave.", the artist mumbled, already starting to shuffle away. With a growl, Dean caught his arm, dragging the man back to his side.

"Don't be like that. I'm not pissed. My face just looks that way.", Dean snapped, reminding himself to take a deep breath and attempt to appear calm. This is why he preferred machines over people. A car didn't care if you were frowning or in a shitty mood. "Here. Let's start over. I'm Dean Winchester.". The mechanic held out his hand toward the artist who regarded it curiously. Dean tried not to grimace as he noted all the oil and car grime embedded into his skin, making the calluses of it gray. Lost in thought, he was surprised to see it taken by an equally dirty hand though this one was caked with paint in an array of rainbow colors in the creases and cuticles.

"Castiel Novak at your service.", the artist said as he jerkily shook Dean's hand, like he had never had the chance to do so before with another human being.

"Castiel. That's a mouthful. What do people call you?", Dean mused as he tried to reclaim his hand. Castiel didn't seem to want to give it up just yet, the artist holding it with both of his own now as he openly studied it. Dean smiled awkwardly at the other museum patrons as he felt his cheeks flush.

"Castiel.", the artist blinked in confusion. Dean barely managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes as he shook his hand gently free from the artist's grip.

"No, I meant for short. You know what? Never mind. I'll just call you Cas.", Dean said quickly, plowing forward with his usual amount of tact. It was about the same quantity that Sam was showing at the moment, Dean noticing his younger sibling staring at him slack jawed and wide eyed from across the room. Of course Sam would know who Castiel was, Dean grimaced, shooting him a glare. Castiel followed his look to stare at Sam at well.

"The giant over there with the dopey grin is my kid brother Sam. Wave at the confused moose.". Dean told the artist, careful to silently mouth the message of "Fuck off" to his brother while Castiel was distracted. Message was heard and receive when Sam returned it with furrowed brow and a bitchface but did Dean brotherly solid by staying away.

"Awesome. Now we all know each other.", Dean smirked as he watched Sam start a conversation with some short guy that looked oddly familiar to Dean for some reason. "So Cas, what's your question?".

"Will you model for me?", Castiel asked point blank.

"What!?", Dean squawked loud enough to be shushed by the other patrons, though he would fervently deny doing so later on.

"The bone structure of your face is one of the purest examples of the golden ratio I have seen in a long while. I would love to make you the focus of my next upcoming project or devote an entire series to you.", Casitel continued, oblivious to Dean's growing discomfort.

"Golden ratio? What the hell? Is that some sort of weird artist pickup line?", Dean mentally flailed about.

"What's a pickup line?", Castiel asked blankly.

"Are you fucking with me?", Dean glared to be met with more face of incomprehension. "Ok, I guess not."

"I would pay you for your time well.", Castiel added, making things go from bad to worse.

"Now that sounds practically indecent. Are you sure you are coming on to me?", Dean asked suspiciously, not that he really minded. He had already resolved to bed this strange man come hell or high water.

"I am offering you a job with minimal work and excellent pay. I do not understand why that would be considered offensive.", Casitel's brow furrowed as he frowned at Dean.

"You don't get out much, do you.", it was more statement than question on Dean's part.

"I must admit, I am not what you call a 'people person'.". Bless his baby in trench coat heart, Castiel actually used air quotes, making them a real thing with his fingers. It was all Dean could do not to laugh at the poor guy.

"I would never have guessed.", Dean muttered dryly instead, "Ok, so no bullshit. You just want me to model?".

"What else would I want you to do?", Castiel asked clearly at a complete loss.

Dean shook his head, laughter coming off of his lips low and light. "Nothing man. Never mind. You're a trip you know that?", he chuckled, "Ok DiCaprio, you can paint me like one of your French girls."

"I don't understand the reference.", Castiel grumbled, looking put out about it. He was sure Dean was making fun of him, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. Castiel was well aware of his poor grasp on pop culture.

"I'm saying 'yes', Cas.", Dean rolled his eyes.

"Oh! Excellent.", Castiel seemed at a loss, the artist beginning to wander off again in his excitement until Dean snagged the back of his trench coat, tethering Castiel's ass to Earth again.

"You have to tell me when and where, fruit loop.", Dean grinned, loving Castiel's absent minded look of concentration. The guy looked like he was trying to take a poop, he was thinking so hard.

"Can you come home with me right now? That would be most convenient.", Castiel mentally regrouped.

"Don't you have to stay for the exhibition?", Dean asked, gesturing to the painting all around them and the people obviously waiting to speak with the artist himself.

"No. I've already seen it.", Casitel stated with a nod.

"Ok…..", Dean had no idea if Castiel was trying to funny or not, the guy said everything in that voice of his completely deadpan. "Well, do you want me to follow you in your car then?"

"I do not drive or own a car.", Castiel shook his head as Dean stared back at him in disbelief, his mechanic soul hurting from that sort of blow.

"So when you said convenient, you meant for you, as in you need a ride.", Dean sighed, catching up with Castiel's way of thinking.

"Yes. I do not care for cabs or any form of public transportation.", Castiel admitted softly as he leaned in toward Dean, like it was a huge secret, his deep voice lowering somehow to conspiracy type levels.

"So how did you get here today?", Dean whispered back, because he was genuinely curious.

"My brother drove me but is going to abandon me here.", Castiel said with a definite certainty.

"Abandon you? Wow, that's harsh. You said he is going to though which means he hasn't yet. How can you be so sure?", Dean asked.

"He only drives me to places such as this so that he can conquest my fans or the random art enthusiast. He was the model for the archangel turned Trickster piece.", Castiel sighed, gesturing to the painting. At that, Dean got a strange sinking feeling, though he couldn't quite put his finger on top of the source of it just yet.

"Conquest? You mean he picks up chicks.", Dean reasoned out for himself aloud.

"And men. Gabriel is quite promiscuous and surprisingly flexible when it comes to such carnal matters.", Castiel admitted easily.

"Dude, too much information. I didn't need to know that.", Dean winced.

"I thought you might though, considering that he is currently leaving with your brother, probably for multiple rounds of coitus.", Castiel pointed out, Sam leaving arm in arm with the short guy with the golden hair and eyes he had been talking to earlier and was now trying to climb Sam like a beanpole and suck his tongue out of his face.

"Son of a bitch!"


	2. Chapter 2

AN-You can thank Boofini from Tumblr for the continuation of this story.

If he was being perfectly honest with himself at the time, Dean had to admit he didn't known what to expect when he pulled up to what passed for Castiel's studio. The address and directions that the odd artist had given him took the pair far out of the city and into farming country, smooth asphalt turning to crunchy gravel and hard packed dirt. Dean grimaced for his paint job, tires, and suspension at the bumpy ride with inevitable dust kick up, cursing vividly at every pothole the Impala seemed fated to find.

The most unlikely of passengers to ever grace the interior of his car, world famous artist and soon to be employer, seemed quite content to stare out the window, like the swift blurred view of passing cornfields was going to tell him the divine meaning of life. For all Dean knew, maybe it would. He was really hoping it was telling Castiel where the hell they were cause Dean was pretty sure that they were completely lost and had been for the better part of an hour.

"We are not lost.", Castiel broke the charged silence that had existed between them since the start of this little journey. For not making a sound most of the time, Castiel seemed to have a knack for filling up all the breathable space with his presence alone.

Holy hell, Dean thought while glancing over at Castiel with a suspicious look, he could apparently read minds now too. Hopefully Castiel would only use his powers for good otherwise Dean was really screwed and not in the fun way. He had been undressing Castiel in his mind for the last couple of miles and imagining what kind of sounds the artist would make with that whisky soaked, rough voice of his while being fucked into the Impala's dash or over the car's gleaming black hood. Dean snorted at himself for being such a pathetic horndog while he tried to adjust himself discretely.

Feeling safe to do so, Dean turned his full attention back to the unwitting artist beside him. "Feels like we are.", the mechanic grunted, gesturing to the sea of golden tipped greenery all around them. This was starting to feel less like a fun romantic comedy to him and more like a B-rated horror movie but without the gratuitous tit shots. If Dean had any say in the matter though, he would skip the monster of the week and the gratuitous violence, and make this flick X rated with his perky nipples and his renewed interest in car sex. "How much further?".

"Distance is relative. It is the journey that matters.", Castiel nodded sagely to no one. Dean stared at his passenger as long as he could without watching the road, unsure of what expression his own face was trying to resolve itself into at that unexpected insight.

"Cas….While deep, that's not really answer.", Dean settled for mildly displeased topped with a side of miffed. "Now can you quit being a bad fortune cookie for a minute and tell me where the fuck we are and how much longer we're going to be? I really need to take a piss and I'd rather not do it on something I might be eating in the future.".

"Urine is sterile. One can drink it if need be without ill effect.", Castiel told Dean in that annoyingly calm manner of his, "But if you require enclosed facilities for comfortable urination, my home is right there.". And just like something biblical, the corn parted like a sea to reveal an old farmhouse and an even older barn, leaving Dean speechless. He had to admit that both were a little hard to miss unless the onlooker was completely stone blind. Dean was pretty sure those day glo colors could be seen from orbit, the large, colonial style farmhouse's exterior saturated in a rave's wet dream of searing hot pink, screaming orgasm yellow, and a shade of blue that was making Dean's eyes water from its intensity. Not to be outdone by its flamboyant neighbor, the barn was a shade of orange that looked dangerously radioactive and was accented with stark black markings that appeared to be tribal in nature and looked more than a little vicious.

"Holy hell….", Dean breathed out as he pulled up to the house. It was enough for him to even forget the unnecessary fun fact about pee he could have lived the rest of his life without knowing.

"I have been meaning to repaint. It is missing a green for balance.", Castiel mused as he exited the vehicle, Dean following him with his eyes still glued to the house's exterior even though it kinda hurt to look at it directly or at length. The design in partnership with the neon color palette made it seem to move and twist without the aid of recreational drugs. Dean wondered to himself what Castiel had been taking at the time cause there was no way in hell that paint job was done by anyone sober or in their right mind.

"So this is what happens when you take the brown acid.", Dean mused, debating with himself if it were safe enough to touch. Dean really didn't want to catch crazy from a house. Shrugging in neutral response, Castiel started to walk up the front step, each on painted a different color, leaving Dean with only the options of calling it a day or following him in. The mechanic supposed it was alright seeing that the artist hadn't bothered to close the front door behind him and in Dean's opinion, that was as good an invitation as he was going to get from Castiel, though the mechanic did pause to study the wraparound porch in all its trippy florescent glory.

With a shake of his head, Dean entered, mindful to close the door behind him and lock it because seriously, even out in the middle of nowhere you couldn't be too careful. Safety secured, he ended up stopping short in his tracks, staring around wide eyed and slack jawed at the house's interior.

It was so…..so… damn normal.

Like normal that bordered on the boring kind of normal, normal. Dean didn't know what to make of this total turnabout in reality as he rubbernecked his way through a rather comfortable looking living room painted and decorated in tasteful earthen tones, dark brown leather furniture, and warm honey wood flooring. It even had some tasteful accent pillows. Feeling like a victim of the Twilight Zone, Dean found Castiel easily enough in the kitchen, which was a monstrosity of modern technology done all in gleaming white tile, unblemished surfaces, and snowy ceramic with silver chrome, a cheerful sunflower theme as its colorful touch of whimsy.

"What the hell happened here? You have an off day?", Dean asked, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. He didn't want to touch anything in here, it was all so damn white and clean looking. Dean's own kitchen in his apartment was sad little affair, marked with neglect and disuse, not that Dean couldn't cook. He just rarely had the time or the desire to do so. Cooking for one was depressing enough chore anyway.

"No. This is Gabriel's doing. He lives with me and has done so for a while now. He claims it is 'for reasons' and is for my 'benefit'.", and there were those darling little air quotes again, Castiel committing himself to the finger gestures. On some level, Dean wanted to stop him but it was adorable in its over exaggerated application. "I was opposed to the decor but Gabriel insisted so we played a strange game called beer pong to decide the outcome. I lost so Gabriel got to chose the interior design of the house….."

Dean completely missed the rest of Castiel's story, his mind too boggled by the very idea and image of Castiel playing something mundane as beer pong. As much as he liked it( and it did look comfortable and more his style), Dean wasn't about to compliment anything that little brother molesting weasel of a midget did. Dean most recent memory of Gabriel was of Castiel's brother shoving his tongue into Sam's mouth and even worse, Sam appearing to encourage it by picking the little fucker up and carrying him out of the museum to probably do things. Terrible inappropriate things that made Dean want to scrub his brain with bleach rather than think about at length. He just hoped that Sam topped and made that little groping troll walk with a limp for a week.

"Humph, I like the outside better.", Dean grumbled, scowling at the cheerful kitchen of clean cheerfulness with all its stupid happy sunflowers. It had lost its luster now that he knew that it was Gabriel's doing as Dean started to wander around, marking pristine counters with fingerprints and scuffing his heavy steel toed boots across clean white tile. He was a mechanic and thus was perpetually covered in oil or some sort of car grime despite all his best efforts toward cleanliness. Dean was on a personal mission now to avenge Sam's virtue. If anyone was going to dirty up this damn kitchen, it was going to be him.

So preoccupied with his new goal in life, Dean would have missed the glass of water offered to him if it wasn't shoved directly into his face, almost smacking him in the nose. "Um, thank you?", Dean gingerly accepted the almost too full glass that threatened to spill over. He wondered why Castiel looked so damn pleased with himself, the artist smiling wide enough to show teeth. Like everything else about him, it was an clumsy thing, like Castiel didn't get a chance to use the expression often, but just like everything else he did, it was honestly done. It faltered it a bit under Dean's questioning arched brow at the procured water.

"Is it not customary to offer one's guest refreshment?", Castiel asked, nodded his head toward the beverage, beginning to look a little nervous about it.

"Um yeah. Usually you ask first but this it good too. Thanks Cas.", Dean said quickly as he made a show of sipping his water to put the artist at ease. He knew that he wasn't the best person to being giving out etiquette advice. The only person who came over to his place was Sam and he hardly counted being family and all, and as it turned out, one hell of a mooch. When the college student came over, Sam tended to drink all Dean's beer, eat all his food, use up all his hot water, and lounge around on his couch butt ass naked while his multiple loads of dirty laundry were in the wash. In Dean's opinion, another man's taint sweat should never touch his couch, even if that man was his brother. It just wasn't right.

Though many would assume otherwise from his friendly open demeanor, Dean didn't bring people, as in the bar's flavor of the night, home. Mostly because his living quarters were right over his garage and he didn't like strangers in his personal space or his work area. The small stand alone building that encompassed his business and home was both and thus off limits, even to the prettiest of faces. The more time he spent with Castiel though, Dean was beginning to get a sinking feeling that hinted he might be willing to make an exception for the pair of soulful blue eyes that were trying to stare straight through him to the very depths of his soul.

"My apologies.", Castiel muttered, looking a bit amiss as his fingers played with the worn cuffs of his trench coat. Without another word, the artist started to wander off out of the kitchen and back into the living room, looking lost in his own head. Dean put his glass down quickly on the counter out of the way to follow him, wondering if it was some sort of defense mechanism on the artist's part. He remembered Castiel trying to escape his company before at the museum when he got uncomfortable or embarrassed. Unfortunately for the artist, Dean was stubborn ass and a Winchester to boot, which meant he was an unique class of stubborn. The kind of which that had the tenacity to crack diamonds.

Dean snagged Castiel easily enough by the back of his trench coat before the artist got too far. "I'm going to put a leash on you if you keep wandering off on me like that.", Dean chuckled, dragging the man back to his side who head titled inquisitively in response.

"I do not think we have progressed far enough along in our relationship, professional or otherwise, to establish dominance in BDSM foreplay.", Castiel furrowed his brow in thought. In witty reply, Dean made a real go at choking himself out on air.

"I believe I would have a preference for being the dominant though, if that is alright with you should the situation ever arise.", Castiel stated solemnly with a definite nod as Dean fought to remind his lungs how to funtion correctly.

"T-that's….That's great, Cas. Flipping fantastic.", Dean managed out weakly. He tried to shift himself as discreetly as possible in what felt like a gesture he had been repeating all damn day in Castiel's presence, his penis definitely liking where this conversation was going, the fucking traitor. Dean told his mini me to shut the hell up and that he didn't get a vote on shit. "Did you want to paint me or proposition me?". He asked, really hoping for the latter.

Castiel gave Dean a strange look in return. "I can hardly paint you in the living room.", Castiel told him patiently like Dean was the crazy one here, saying highly inappropriate things. "We will need to go to my studio.".

"Ok, let's do that then.", Dean said carefully. Not receiving any indication of where he should be going, Dean ended up staring at Castiel who stared right back at him. It went on for long enough that Dean broke out into a cold sweat, wondering what the hell was going on. Did eye fucking count as a come hither look or actual foreplay? "Um….Cas?", Dean prompted, wetting his too dry lips nervously with a quick tongue. Castiel's eyes disconcertingly tracked every movement with an intensity that was usually only equated to lasers.

"Yes, Dean?" was said, accompanied by even more intense staring.

"I don't live here. You're going to have to lead the way.", Dean said, feeling kinda desperate now. Damn, Castiel's eyes were pretty though, like his very own personal view of the Caribbean, all clear and sparkly. The suggestion in common sense was enough to nudge the artist in the right direction though, Castiel breaking off the look to start meandering again without any word of warning or direction. This time, Dean was in tow, the mechanic latching a light hand onto the back of the artist's trench coat. The pair left the farmhouse via the back door, which Dean insisted Castiel lock and earned a blank look from the artist for suggesting the seemingly foreign concept of home security, the men walking toward the florescent orange barn, the color of which that had managed to burn itself into the back of Dean's eyelids by the time they got to the entrance.

Dean hadn't know what he been expecting but he found that he wasn't disappointed in the least bit. The barn was one huge space filled from top to bottom and corner to corner with canvases of all different shapes and sizes from handheld tiny to 'holy fuck, I didn't know they made them big enough to hide elephants'. There were dividers and walkways of sorts, made up entirely from containers and tubes of paint in every color Dean knew and even some he didn't. Paint brushes were everywhere, soaking in jars of cleaning solution, drying out set off to the side in the only sink of the place, or solidified in dried paint and cemented to whatever surface they had been abandoned upon. The wood planked floor of the barn looked like a couple of rainbows had had a messy orgy on it, feeling tacky underfoot from the sheer amount of mixed mediums that had been dripping upon it.

Like an island in a sea of congealing pigment set off to the side in a far corner, an entire block of white marble was surrounded in the chiseled off refuse of its own stony flesh. From what Dean could tell, the piece was still a work in progress, a highly detailed yet faceless figure beginning to emerge from the tortured embrace of stone. It gave Dean the creeps, the mechanic making a mental note to avoid looking at it again.

In another corner of the barn stood an unlit kiln with a muddy looking pottery wheel and an array of narrow metal tubing in various lengths set up close to the industrial oven. The shelving that lined the walls in this area where filled with delicate looking blown glass decorations that sparkled like rare gems and robust pots, the intricate glaze in assorted shades of metallic upon them glistening brightly in the overhead lighting.

"I thought you just painted.", Dean said, feeling like he had to say something but not knowing quite what. Nailed it, he groaned inwardly at his lack of intelligent commentary. Art so wasn't his thing.

Thankfully, the artist didn't seem to mind. "I get bored.", Castiel shrugged going to a locker that had seen better days, part of Dean somewhat impressed that the metal structure was still standing. To Dean's amusement, Castiel took off his trench coat to replace it with another trench coat, though this one was incredible stained with a impressive range of colors from various paints, bits of clay, and what looked like burn marks.

"Um, don't you want to change out of your suit if you're going to be messy?", Dean asked as he watched Castiel collect some of the clean brushes from the sink to shove them into his coat pocket.

"I already did.", Castiel pointed out, looking down at himself. "I always wear a suit and tie. Gabriel insisted that I do so after a few unfortunate incidents of people coming over to see my work.".

"How is that unfortunate?", Dean asked, feeling a bit more confident to look around as he picked his way through Castiel's wasteland of a studio. It wasn't like he could mess the place up any more than it actually was, even if he decided to throw a couple gallons of paint around willy nilly.

"I was regrettably naked or in a state of offensive undress at the time. It was not well received.", Castiel said in offhand manner as he moved some pieces of canvas around, shoving the ones that offended him for whatever reason aside with a slightly puzzled frown. "Clothing can be a hindrance and starts to smell if left in contact with one's skin for too long, but it can be useful for cleaning up spills or as padding for taking hot pots out of the kiln.".

"You paint in the nude?", was all that Dean got out of that, liking how this modeling job was beginning to sound better and better.

"Not often, at least not anymore. Gabriel takes measures toward my attire and insists that I wear suits.", Castiel grumbled, displeased with his assortment of canvases though Dean didn't know why. They all looked the same to him. "The layers are taxing to take off so I usually do not make the effort to do so unless they are definitively needed."

"Well if you feel the burning urge to strip, just let me know. I'll be happy to help you out of a few pesky layers.", Dean grinned cheekily. "Promise I won't get offended."

"That is very kind of you, Dean. I will keep that in mind.", Castiel murmured, obviously distracted by his own inner judgments about the properties of the canvas. Dean watched his blatant come on clear the artist's head, flying high over it like a comet made of fail. "Oh but that does remind me. You will need to disrobe please.".

"D-disrobe?", Dean stammered, his boots catching on some of the floor's debris. The mechanic barely managed to catch his balance in time to avoid face planting. Castiel took his surprise for misunderstanding much to Dean's chagrin.

"I would like you to take off all of your clothing, Dean.", Castiel unnecessarily clarified to the wide eyed, cherry red mechanic.

"I know what it means!", Dean snapped, rubbing the back of his neck with a jumpy hand. "Can I know why I'm showing you all my goods and services without even so much as a free drink?". It wasn't like he was ashamed of his body. His job beat him into shape and habitual visits to the gym kept the rest of him well toned. This was the first time he was ever seriously considered doing a dude though, and for a confused plethora of insecure sex related reasons, Dean didn't want to be the one getting down and dirty before Castiel. He wasn't even sure if he was going to top or not, and in his opinion, getting buck naked first did nothing to secure that position for him.

True to form, Castiel remained oblivious to what was happening between them or that he was even the source of Dean's distress, the artist making a gruff noise of triumph as he unearthed a canvas that he could work with finally, freeing from the stack. "How else am I supposed to make a study of your body if you are not naked?", Castiel head titled when he finally registered Dean's question.

"Oh, I don't know. Here's wild idea though. Maybe paint me with my clothing on?", Dean suggested with more than just a hint of sarcasm, running his hands over his shirt and jeans as if to reaffirm that they were still on him. Much to Dean's surprise, Castiel seemed to be taking his retort under deep consideration, the overly thoughtful expression of furrowed brow making the artist look constipated in Dean's opinion.

"No.", Castiel concluded, taking his selected canvas to a somewhat cleared out space in the center of the barn where a sturdy looking easel stood. "You can put your clothing in the locker with my coat if you like.".

"Well, I'm so glad we cleared that up.", Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh, the mechanic toeing his boots off as he started the process of relieving himself of all his comfortable layers. Piling everything up together, Dean shoved all his effects into the offered locker, trying not to feel too self conscious as air nipped at his bare skin in annoying little prickly reminders. He always had the option to leave but Dean couldn't bring himself to just yet. Castiel wasn't coming off as a pervert despite his odd love for trench coats or was making any effort to ogle his junk. If anything, Castiel seemed to be contemplating the colony of dusty spider webs that had taken over the barn's rafters, basically ignoring Dean who felt vaguely disappointed by the lack of attention, perverted or otherwise. The mechanic looked down at himself to reaffirm that, yes, he was a stunning example of the male specimen with a well toned physique, tanned skin, a dimpled smile, and in the general opinion of his bedmates, very well endowed from the waist below.

Eventually, Castiel's wayward focus returned from wherever it had floated off to, to stare at Dean with an almost puzzled expression on his face. It threw Dean off a little, hoping for a little appreciation for his sacrifice in dignity. He lost his patience though when Castiel frowned thoughtfully at him.

"What?", Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest to resist the impulse to hide his junk from view.

"It is not of import but you are bow legged.", Castiel stated blandly, breaking off his study of Dean to collect his paints from various piles of discard.

Dean's shoulders slumped in disbelief at the blunt commentary. "What? Shut up.", Dean growled, the mechanic a bit touchy about his wayward knees thanks to his younger sibling.

"Do not worry yourself about it. It is mild enough I can work around it.", Castiel offered in way of comfort.

"I'm so relieved.", Dean huffed, letting it go. There was no point making a fuss about something when the other person wasn't even mentally in the same state of mind much less in the same room, or even on the same planet for that matter.

"Just so you know, you don't have my permission to show or sell this, whatever this is, to anyone. Gotta pay if you wanna play for this fine ass and perky nipples.", Dean grumped, wondering what the hell he was supposed to be doing as an artist's model. Should he just stand there and look pretty or look for something to sit down on and lounge? Dean considered striking a pose of some sort but nixed the idea when he realized he had no idea how long he would have to hold it or even how long this was going to take. "Hey Cas, are we going to wrap this up anytime soon? Like before dinner?".

"I do not expect this project to be complete anytime soon. Weeks perhaps. Possibly months. Who knows really?", Castiel shrugged, ducking his head as he uncovered a table from its hiding place. Dean noticed that the artist was carefully hiding his expression from him as Castiel dragged the small table over to the easel so that he could busy himself setting up his chosen tubes of oil upon it. He reacted to the sounds of Dean sputtering in surprise.

"Months?! What the hell? I thought this was a 'one night only' deal?", Dean said, "You do realize that I have a garage to run and jobs lined up, right?".

"My schedule is versatile. Come here when you can and whenever you are able to.", Castiel offered, loading a worn palette full of moist color. He pulled a paintbrush out of his pocket, taking a moment to consider it. Dean rolled his eyes at the artist, not getting the methods to his madness as the implement passed whatever inspection it was under.

"Oh, I guess that's fine.", Dean grunted, secretly giddy and liking that he had an open invitation to show up whenever he wanted to now. "Did you want me doing anything? Like model stuff?".

"If you want, you can stand there or take a seat. It does not matter to me.", Castiel said dismissively as he started to apply color to canvas, his complete focus dedicated to his craft.

"Um, don't you need me to pose or something?", Dean asked confused. Castiel mumbled an unintelligible response, sounding quite disinterested with the whole proceeding that was making Dean in his nudity feel all sorts of apprehensive.

"No. I have perfect recall in memory so it is completely unnecessary now that I have seen all of you.", Castiel told him. The artist stared wide eyed in confusion as he suddenly found himself bodily turned away by firm hands from the view of his canvas to have it filled with a whole lot of irritated mechanic, who made the artist drop his palette in a wet splat of color.

"Then why the hell am I still naked if you don't need me to pose for you?! You could have told me to get dressed at least.", Dean yelled, gestured down to his dangling bits. They were not enjoying the coolness of the room and to be fair, the chill was not doing Dean any personal favors in the size department either.

"I prefer you without clothing.", Castiel answered, sounding mildly puzzled by Dean's irritated question, like the answer to it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why would it take months if you don't need me around?", Dean worked out through clenched teeth in an effort to at least maintain an appearance of calm.

"I like your company. I can pay you well for it. All I ask is that you remember to strip when you choose to join me here.", Castiel requested calmly enough to make Dean's brain hurt a little bit.

"You don't have to pay me to hang out with you.", Dean sighed, tiredly running a hand down his face. Why was his life so weird? "And just so you know, that's an incredibly odd thing to say to someone you've basically just met.". Dean ignored the fact that he stated all this while in the nude. He was keeping the moral higher ground here, damn it.

"I find that it makes things easier if I offer compensation to a person I wish to spend any extended duration of time with. I am not what one would call a 'people person'. Money makes the process go more smoothly.", Castiel air quoted much to Dean's amusement, though the mechanic lost all sense of humor as the artist continued with his self evaluation. "I have been told frequently by my family and acquaintances that my personality is awkward and barely tolerable at best. My brothers Gabriel and Balthazar are the only two person I know of who make any effort to do so out of their own volition.".

Castiel would have continued if not for Dean and his waning patience with this conversation's subject matter. "You know what, Cas? Screw those ass hats. Anyone who says that to you isn't worth your damn time.", Dean snapped, wincing when he saw Castiel jump a little from his abrupt tone, the artist watching him with almost scared looking wide eyes. "I like you just fine and you don't need to pay me. Don't get me wrong, you're a little rough around the edges, but hell, who isn't? So don't take that kind of shit from anyone. I don't get art and wouldn't know a Picasso from a hole in the ground, but I can tell you're awesome even without it and that's saying something coming from me. Most people suck but you don't."

"You think I'm awesome?", Castiel asked in a low voice, looking timid about it as if he was unsure if he should accept the compliment or not. "No one has ever referred to me personally as 'awesome'.". Dean laughed as he caught Castiel's hands in his own to keep the artist from making his beloved air quotes, the mechanic studying the tips of paint stained fingers within the hold of his calloused own.

As he looked at Castiel, the artist frozen in his surprise at being complimented and sincerity of the mechanic's defense for him, Dean remembered the painting at the museum that had started this whole day for them. He had an epiphany of sorts while staring into those multi faceted azure blue eyes, the mechanic realizing in his bounty of insight that the depiction of the black winged angel was actually a self portrait but even more so, figured out what had been bothering him about it back at the museum. The crying angel's tears were not made from sorrow but from loneliness and the silent suffering that came from it. The angel wings weren't wrapped around him to ward off an attack or for others to keep their distance. They were there so that he could hide, not from fear but shame. A shame of being different, of being seen as broken or wrong and judged for it.

That was why it resonated with Dean, the mechanic having his own issues with his own self worth as well. His brother was a freaking genius who was going to graduate from a well renowned college valedictorian to go on to becoming some rich, hot shot lawyer. In comparison, Dean had barely made it through high school, graduating with only a GED to show for all his time spent there. He owned his own shop and did well enough but when compared to his younger brother, it was plain enough to see who was the more worthwhile person between them, the one worthy of respect. Dean couldn't do anything for his own lot of life, but he was going to be damned if he let ignorant sons of bitches treat Castiel like that just because the guy couldn't make small talk.

Which was why Dean leaning in, catching the sides of Castiel's face with gentle hands to keep the artist in place as he pressed a firm kiss to Castiel's plush lips. He was going to make the artist lose that stunned expression over such a small compliment and replace it with something better. Dean fought his way into Castiel's mouth, taunting and teasing with his tongue and teeth, playing with soft, chapped flesh when he could between all his efforts to map out Castiel's teeth with the tip of his tongue, learning the flavor of the artist's hesitant tongue as he made his study. His efforts left them both panting once it was established by their aching lungs that they both needed to breathe at some point.

"Why did you do that?", Castiel asked breathlessly, his voice a hoarse whisper as he touched his kiss swollen lips with trembling fingers and a look of complete wonder.

"Why do you think? I like you, you dippy angel.", Dean rolled his eyes, touching their foreheads together, "I figured it would be alright since you already told me that you liked me.".

"Is it fine?", Dean pressed, disquieted enough by the artist's responding silence to seek belated yet hopeful permission before he made an even bigger fool of himself and start backpedaling to save what was left of his pride. It didn't help anything when he remembered that he was still very naked and currently pressing all the nudity up against Castiel.

Dean found that he didn't get the chance to make excuses or retreat, his arms suddenly quite full of excited artist, Castiel jumping him to wrap his arms around Dean's shoulders and his legs tightly around Dean's waist. Dean got even less of a chance to comment or complain about his unexpected burden, his mouth very full of enthusiastic tongue. His brain catching up with current events helpfully informed Dean that Castiel had as much skill and finesse with kissing as he did with people skills, the kiss very wet and uncoordinated. It was very wholehearted and passionate though, Castiel not holding back anything as he basically attacked Dean's mouth with his full lips and tongue. Focusing on not falling over and killing the mood, the mechanic let him go to town until Castiel wore himself out, the artist humming in pleasure from it.

For being possibly the worst kiss of his love life, Dean noted that he was hard enough from its moist effects to drill steel. He decided that he could deal and hell, it was just all about practice. Castiel seemed committed enough to learning and if his enthusiasm was any good indication, Castiel was a more than happy to give it his best efforts. All the gooey sweet feelings of smexiness aside, it gave Dean one hell of a good idea, killing two birds with one stone really.

"Hey Cas, have you ever done it on a kitchen counter before?"


	3. Chapter 3

AN- No clue what I'm doing. Comments are always appreciated.

"I feel a disturbance in the force."

Sam rolled his eyes, not amused, since Gabriel had decided to abruptly break off a rather enjoyable kiss to make this ridiculous proclamation.

"That's great.", Sam mumbled, leaning in to get back to the kissing that was making all his bare skin tingle. Despite being shorter in stature (but really who wasn't compared to Sam), Gabriel had demonstrated a talent for imitating an octopus by touching multiple impossible places at once that made Sam twitch and groan. He wanted to Gabriel to reveal this talent again in the limited confines of Sam's backseat so that he could study it in detail. "For science and the good of all mankind, of course.", Sam thought hazily, because the afterglow always made him a little woozy and weird in the head. He was sure it had something to due with his height and the amount of blood that was pooling in his groin, but fuck thinking at the moment, Gabriel was a flexible pagan god of sex.

"I'm being serious. Something is amiss.", Gabriel frowning down at him from his perch on top of Sam's stomach, the golden eyed man straddling him like he was going to ride him. Sam wanted to encourage this idea as much as possible, his hands coming to rest on Gabriel's hips. The stars were not aligned in his favor it would seem though, his own personal sex god looking less than generous with the loving at the moment.

"Who says 'amiss'?", Sam sighed in disappointment, the odds of him getting in another round of mind blowing sex waning before his eyes. 'Amiss' was just that kind of word strong enough to cockblock him.

"I do. It's called class, kiddo.", Gabriel smirked as he climbed off of Sam to attempt a search for his clothing, which shouldn't have been able to go very far considering that they hadn't made it any further than the parking lot at Sam's apartment. "C'mon, shake a leg. We're going to the homestead.".

"But….", Sam did not whine. He was a grown ass man who towered over all others at the impressive height of 6'4, and was in his third year of college, top of his class with a promising future in law. With that in mind, he most certainly does not whine. He was simply providing an intelligent counterpoint.

"Don't pout. It's not cute on a giant.", Gabriel obviously had not received the memo about how right Sam was, "Ok, it's freaking adorable but it shouldn't be, you mutated puppy eyed moose.".

"Your pillow talk sucks and your nicknames aren't clever.", Sam pointed out, crawling out of the backseat to help locate his pants. It took longer than he would have liked to admit, but he managed to shimmy his overly long frame up and over without injuring himself other than banging his knee rather painfully or elbowing Gabriel in the side of the head.

"I'm witty as hell and have a cute butt.", Gabriel shot back, struggling into his jeans with a wiggle and a tug. He couldn't find his underwear so he deemed it a lost cause and moved on to bigger and better things, namely one of Sam's shirts. He didn't feel to bad about the theft considering the amount of layers Sam had been wearing, like he expected winter to drop kick him in the plaid at any moment. "Not my fault you can't appreciate either."

"I can but you're only half right there.", Sam crowed in triumph, finding his pants wrapped around the steering wheel which didn't make any sense. He didn't remember them ever moving their activities to the front of the car. "Are you seriously going to steal my shirt?".

"I'm not stealing it. I'm borrowing it indefinitely and it's not like you'll miss it, you stingy bastard. I want something to remember you by after we part ways.", Gabriel looked down at the plaid shirt that threatened to drown him in a sea of soft cotton. "Hey, are you trying to say I have a fat ass?!".

"No. I'm more shocked that you don't considering all I've seen you eat so far is candy.", Sam shrugged with a smile.

"Brat.", Gabriel stuck his tongue out cause he was totally older, far more mature, and that is how you win an argument.

"Addict.", Sam countered with an arched brow.

"Start the car, Sasquatch. Like I said, something is amiss.", Gabriel grumped, out of witty retorts as worry gnawed at his gut.

After several hours of navigating through a maze of corn to find the afterbirth of an acid trip for a house, Sam had to admit it. Something was amiss as he looked at what used to be a rather nice kitchen with a sunflower theme to it. Someone had obviously not approved of its cheerfulness.

"I don't believe it.", Gabriel stared at the wreckage all around them. "Some fornicating assholes have defiled my kitchen.".

"Don't be so melodramatic. It looks like a break in.", Sam rolled his eyes. "Does it look like anything has been stolen?"

"That ass print on the counter…..and on the stove, and holy hell, really? On the refrigerator says defilement.", Gabriel frowned down at the evidence, some of which was highlighted by outlines of chocolate syrup and oddly enough, mustard.

"Ewww.", Sam crinkled his nose as he noticed the new running condiment theme. He tried not to touch anything and wished he had remembered the little bottle of hand sanitizer Dean was always trying to press on him.

"That's a cute little bitch face.", Gabriel found a spatula that didn't look like it had been used for anything too unsavory outside the realm of culinary arts at least, using the implement to poke at some questionable wetness. "And that is so not paint. Fucking savages."

"Some one doesn't like sunflowers.", Sam observed, the vendetta against the cheery plant obvious. "You should probably burn those dish towels."

The two men jumped when it sounded like two bodies hit the floor from overhead, a fine dusting of plaster falling from the ceiling upon the pair in its wake.

"And they're still here.", Gabriel growled, heading toward a narrow side stair case that Sam had overlooked in the wake of such carnal destruction.

"Hey, hold up! Shouldn't we call the cops!?", Sam quickly followed and was amazed he had to fight to keep up. Gabriel was fast when he was pissed, the shorter man sprinting up the stairs like a champ.

"Only after I smite them with extreme prejudice.", Gabriel snapped, "FYI, you might be helping me bury a body or two out in the corn field later on.".

"Smite? Really? I thought only angels did that.", Sam mused as he followed Gabriel down poorly lit hallways, the setting sun casting strange shadows about. He really wished that either of them had a weapon or were doing the sensible thing like calling the authorities. Considering how far out they were in the sticks though, burying a body might be a more viable time saving solution.

"Oh, they're going to need a higher power by the time I'm done with them.", Gabriel edged closer to the closed door where low sounds were being emitted at rhythmic intervals. It sounded like someone was being tortured or fucked hard to Sam. Gabriel's head was so full of steam and evil intent, he either didn't hear it or care, the small man heading toward the door like a heat seeking missile of righteous vengeance.

"Gabe, I don't think this is a good idea.", Sam whispered, getting a bad feeling. That didn't stop his fearless companion as Gabriel kicked in the door, confirming everything that Sam had just said.

"Hello Gabriel. Did you need something?", said the dark haired man Sam recognized as the world famous artist Castiel Novak. As thrilled as he was to meet the man himself whose works he idolized, the artist was currently very busy thrusting into his bedmate who was on his knees and elbows, his thighs covered in a dripping fresh coat of white. To Sam's chagrin, he recognized the catcher of the duo as his own older brother Dean. As his brain processed this, it offered up that introductions wouldn't be necessary though selective brain bleaching or excessive heavy drinking might be some nice options to consider later on.

"Did you have sex on my counters!?", Gabriel screeched, totally ignoring what his brother was currently involved in or more accurately who. Sam wasn't sure what the etiquette was in this type of situation but he was pretty damn positive that one wasn't supposed to keep watching his brother getting drilled from behind by another man. It was like a train wreck though, he couldn't look away….and it didn't hurt that Castiel wasn't half bad looking either, even if he was carrying on this conversation as easily as if they were discussing the weather.

"Yes. Multiple times in fact.", Castiel nodded. He paused long enough to slap Dean's ass when the man tried to disengage himself, the mechanic having to settle for pulling a pillow over his head to disappear.

"Damn it! I just cleaned those!", Gabriel griped, pacing back and forth like a diminutive enraged lion, "And my sunflowers! Who spooged on my towels! Those were custom! Custom!".

"Dean. He insisted on it for some reason…Well, you did.", Castiel said, directing the last part down at Dean when the mechanic groaned in complaint from under the pillow. "Gabriel, can this wait? You are breaking my concentration and Dean appears to be uncomfortable with your presence."

Which was an understatement, Sam thought

.At the mention of his name, Dean gave up his clever hiding place, chucking the pillow at Gabriel's head. "Do you fucking mind?!", Dean roared, going for menacing and failing miserably from his position, groaning loudly from a particularly vicious looking thrust and roll of Castiel's hips.

"Yes, I do mind. You ruined my dish towels, you ass.", Gabriel managed to yell back before he was bodily dragged out of the room by Sam who finally got his head out of his ass long enough to remember that they really shouldn't be here, experiencing this. He kicked the door shut behind them.

"Do you believe the nerve of that guy?!", Gabriel flipped a bird at the closed door.

"Well yeah, kinda, sorta….", Sam mumbled, trying to will his cheeks back to a more normal color of flesh tone.

"Huh?", Gabriel didn't like the sound of that.

"That was my brother, Dean. The one I told you about, the mechanic.", Sam winced as the noise level from the room increased. It was almost as bad as watching. Sam hadn't know Dean was a screamer and could have lived the rest of his life without that little tid bit of awkwardness.

"Wow. Your family won out big time in the genetics department.", Gabriel's eyebrows hit his hairline in amused wonder and open appreciation. "Hey, does this count as incest?".

Sam groaned, running a hand down his face tiredly as a sharp cry rang out, the voice this time not Dean's. "Oh good, they're done.", Gabriel grinned, who obviously did recognize it and was already making head way back toward their brothers.

"Let's give them a minute to get decent.", Sam begged desperately, moving to block the door. Seeing his brother getting plowed was enough emotional trauma for one day, thank you very much.

"Don't be such a prude.", Gabriel snickered as he ducked around Sam to swagger back into the room of ill repute. "Hey, wake and bake, kitchen degenerates."

"We were going to enjoy what they call the afterglow and possibly engage in another round of coitus.", Castiel told his brother reproachfully to Dean's answering look of disbelief. They both appeared to be covered with a farily clean sheet but Sam played it safe this time, choosing to stare up at the ceiling instead. Hey, look at that, there were little fishes painted up there. That was totally better to ponder than the image of a fucked out Dean.

"Cas, please for the love of any future sex between us, don't ever call it that again.", Dean groaned, glaring at Gabriel who, if god was good and life was fair, should burst into flames from it. "And just so you know, that asshat has already ruined the afterglow.".

"Understood.", Castiel said, not looking particularly bothered about, well, anything in Sam's opinion. Dean looked ready to happily murder something while Castiel appeared to have just woken up, bed head included. "Why are you here, Gabriel?", the artist asked, sounding genuinely curious, "I thought you would be too busy being intimate with Sam to return until tomorrow.".

"Not better.", Dean groaned, crawling under the covers so that he could pretend that this entire conversation was happening to other people, and not him, and not while in his younger brother's presence. He figured it must be scarring Sam on some level. The kid kept staring up at the ceiling for some reason.

"There's no pleasing some people.", Gabriel sighed, "I was until I could feel sins being committed against my kitchen. Really Cassie, the counter? In chocolate?".

"It was also Dean's idea.", Castiel settled for cuddling up with lump in his bed, leaning up against it to start petting its general grumpy roundness.

"Hey!", protested the lump formerly known as Dean.

"It was, although the table was my suggestion.", Castiel clarified with a content sigh, basking his version of the afterglow. It made Sam that much more uncomfortable as he committed himself to memorizing every fish he could find.

"We eat off that. And the mustard?", Gabriel asked thankfully. Sam wanted to find that out as well but hadn't wanted to ask.

"That was my contribution. The brown of chocolate syrup needed to be balanced with a brightness. The yellowness of mustard was the only condiment bright enough that would do.", Castile "If the sterility of our dining environment bothers you, there are various cleaning supplies in the cabinet that will kill 99% of all bacteria and viruses though to my knowledge neither of us have any sexual transmitted diseases. I was sure to enquire beforehand. Sperm is also a harmless substance, mostly consisting of protiens, fructose, and amino acids, the ingestion of which is considered beneficial by some medical experts."

"Did he really just say that?", Sam asked, deciding to finally rejoin them all in what was laughingly his reality at the moment to be waved off by Gabriel.

"It's Cassie's thing. He's like a fount of useless information, the adorable little goober.", Gabriel cooed down at his sibling, ruffling up his already sex mussed hair. "Mistimed, yes, but oh so charming in his own special way. But he's forgotten his manners since he's got laid. Who's the stud?".

"Fuck off.", the lump grunted, shifting enough to reveal a single finger being vigorously pointing upward. Castiel frowned down at it in mild dismay.

"Oh, spunky. He's a keeper.", Gabriel smirked, poking the lump in the side with his toe. A hand swiped out at it in retaliation, prompting Castiel to take control of the situation before things got really out of hand.

"Gabriel, this is Dean Winchester, older brother of Sam Winchester. Dean, this is one of my older brother who resides here with me, Gabriel Novak. Dean is going to model for me. He is also going to be intimate with me because he wants to and not for money.", Castiel said a little too proudly for anyone to feel comfortable with that statement. It made Dean reappear in time to find Sam looking down at him strangely, a 'wtf' bitch face for his expression of judgment. Dean mouthed 'shut up' at him because now was not the time for this conversation and Castiel sounded so happy. Gabriel couldn't help but smile down at his sibling, but not before shooting a look of warning at Sam who willingly chose to remain confused.

"Awwwww, that's great, Cassie, but I think Deano here is reaping the benefits in other ways.", Gabriel smirked as Dean turned a vibrant shade of puce that Castiel found fascinating to the point of distraction, the artist visibly disengaging from this conversation and reality to stare at Dean.

"Like you're not taking advantage of Sam, you groping little butt monkey midget!", Dean snapped, trying to ignore Castiel's committed stare by focusing all his issues elsewhere.

"Midget! I'm 5'8, you horse's ass! That's hardly small!", Gabriel yelled. He ended up having to stumble back from the bed, Dean getting serious as he got up, not bothering with the sheet The mechanic didn't feel too bad about his lack of clothing, considering he had no idea where they were. He already knew that Castiel didn't mind being naked, and apparently, Gabriel didn't care either, and Sam. Well, Sam had been damaged enough for today, so what was a little more nudity really going to do his psyche?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I can't hear you all the way down there.", Dean loomed or tried to. It was kind of hard in the shadow of his own baby brother who moved in like a wall of muscle to separate the two.

"Dean, quit being an ass. I'm old enough to make my own decisions.", Sam told him before turning to a smug looking Gabriel, "Gabe, calm down or I'll pick you up and carry you out of here.".

"I thought I raised you better than that. This is who you boff?!", Dean glared, attempting to ignite Gabriel through Sam's chest.

"That's rich coming from you, considering that you're naked and covered in bleck!", Sam yelled, gesturing down at all the nakedness that was way too close in his vicinity. "Jeez dude, cover your shame!".

"Bleck, really?", Gabriel snickered from somewhere behind them.

"Shut up.", both the Winchesters intoned at once.

Deciding enough was enough, Sam took the wheel of this crazy bus and started to snap off orders. "Ok, so get this. Everyone is going to go get cleaned up. After we are done wiping off bodily fluids and start wearing proper clothing, we are going to go clean up Gabriel's kitchen. Then we are all going to sit down and have diner like civilized people. Do I make myself clear?"

Gabriel went for a full on dramatic slow clap while Castiel nodded like he just received his marching orders from God. As per usual, Dean went for smart ass.

"I get all tingly when you get all commanding.", Dean grinned, throwing Sam a two fingered salute.

"Dude, so inappropriate.", Sam groaned, "For the love of God, go put some pants on already."

"So, does this count as incest?", Gabriel wondered aloud.

"As much as I adore the sound of that question, I really must ask, what happened to the kitchen?", said a voice, the owner of which leaned up against the doorway to make a show of examining his perfectly manicured nails, making Dean hate him instantly on that principle alone. "Can anyone tell me why the kitchen is covered in semen? Not that I am complaining, mind you. I just would have liked to be invited.". The tall man with blond eyes and crystal blue eyes grinned lecherously enough at Dean to remind him that he was very naked and on open display, making the mechanic dive for the sheets.

"Oh wonderful, are we having an orgy then? Was anyone going to let me know? I am only gone a day and the house sinks into such depths of debauchery they even pull dear sweet Castiel in under their murky tides.", the man swaggered in, pausing long enough to give Sam the full once over, making him feel very uncomfortable from it.

"Dean, this is my other brother Balthazar. Balthazar, this is Dean. I'm not paying him.", Castiel practically beamed from his spot on the bed.

"Oh that's wonderful, darling! Well done, I approve and good find, Cassie.", Balthazar crooned, leaning in to kiss Castiel on the forehead. He ignored Dean's death glare, countering its effects with a wide lazy smirk. "You do realize if you break his precious little heart that they will never be able to find your body.", he stated in an eerily calm tone.

"I don't take threats lightly.", Dean growled, the mechanic wishing fervently that he had some pants on.

"Neither do I.", Sam said in a low tone that promised violence. Dean was grateful for the backup.

"I don't make threats, dear ones. I make promises. For both your sakes and Castiel's, learn the difference.", Balthazar said lightly, appearing to remain unperturbed by the other two men as he sat down next to Castiel to start fussing over his hair.

"Seriously. Could you not do that?", Dean snarled, wanting to haul Castiel into his lap, away from Balthazar's light touches and too closeness. He gave into the impulse, grabbing Castile by the arm to drag the artist over to him. Dean grinned in victory, more like wolf baring its teeth, at Balthazar when Castiel went willingly to him, though he didn't end up in Dean's lap as the mechanic would have liked. No, much to Dean embarrassed chagrin, Castiel decided to spoon Dean from behind, wrapping his arms around the mechanic's torso as he rested his dark head in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean swallowed hard when Castiel's half hard cock settled itself in the groove of his ass, still tacky from lube and cum.

"Someone's a greedy boy.", Balthazar observed, though who that comment was actually directed at was anyone's guess, the blonde tilting his head toward Gabriel in question, "He's a little too caveman, don't you think?"

"All the brains went to the moose.", Gabriel shrugged, thumbing over at Sam. "It just proves you can't have everything. Well, I can. I bagged me the full package. Brains, beauty, and height.".

"We're still in the room. I mean seriously, I'm standing right here.", Sam reminded everyone he was still with them all in body, mind, and spirit, which he realized in hindsight might not have been the best thing to do. At least, not while Gabriel and Balthazar were both leering at him, like they were two hungry dogs and Sam was the last bit of bone between them. A quick look over at Dean told Sam that he wasn't going to be any help, Castiel making out with his brother, their kiss swollen lips wet and slick, and way too involved with one another to give a damn about his well being.

Then again, this was Gabriel's brother and if Dean's fucked out expression and the miracles he had experienced earlier in the car was anything to go by, all the Novaks were sex gods in sack.

"So, does this count as incest?", Sam managed to ask before two pairs of hands grabbed the front of his shirt. They dragged him out of the room and into another, one that had a huge bed in it. A bed Sam got to know intimately well as he was shoved face first into the feathered depths of it.

"Who cares?"


End file.
